Colorblind
by dulceInvierno
Summary: You keep the 'I miss you' at the bottom of your memories and in a corner of your heart -Can we start again?– he asks. And you're wondering the same thing. Start over? A friendship? The relationship? The damaged parts or just the healthy ones? :Mark/Lexie:


**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters. **Spoilers 6x13 6x14**

My first fic on English. If you find some kind of mistake, please let me know. Special thanks to **Thalia** for helping me with the translation.

Soundtrack: **_''Colorblind'' By Counting Crows_**

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**"COLORBLIND"**

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**1.**

The stylist's chair flips and finally you look at your face in the mirror.

Straight.

Long.

Blond.

The person in front of you is someone you don't recognize.

Not at all.

You never wanted to be blonde.

You admit that your self-esteem has never been very big, but it was never small enough to reach this kind of point.

Who is this woman in front of you?

Who do you see in that mirror?

It's not Lexie.

Neither Little Grey.

Much less Alexandra (as your mother used to call you when she was upset)

Or Pumpkin as your dad called you when he wasn't drunk.

It's not Lexie.

Neither Little Grey (as _he_ used to call you in the nights, when it was not sex that exuded from the pores and the word _love_ could be touch in the air)

You feel your eyes burn and the tears threaten to leave at any time.

You are about to yell at the stylist to return immediately and undo everything.

That she must give you your hair back, return the true Lexie hidden under those silvery hairs, and end this stupid torture that you have imposed on yourself.

But you don't have enough money in the bag for a new dye, and you suspect that the stylist will look at you funny if you ask her that.

And, well, being honest with yourself, right now is not the best time for someone to judge you (again)

You try to leave the room hastily, without turning around to see your reflection in the hundreds of mirrors that crosses your path.

Outside, you ignore the looks that you wouldn't have received if the color of your hair were another.

You get home (which really is not _home_, it doesn't feel right) and you are relieved because Meredith and her husband are at the hospital. You slip, like you've committed a great crime and lock yourself in your room.

You sit in bed and look up to the mirror of the bureau in front of you.

Straight.

Long.

Blond.

And you begin to cry.  
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**2.**

You open up your eyes, and discover that you fell asleep.

You hear the noise of people coming in and out, so you grip to the bed, wishing you could disappear between the sheets, because in that moment, you don't want to see anybody (even less that they see you)

What the hell have you done?

If you weren't honest with yourself, you'll say that you needed a change (that could be a very good reason), or that in the inside you always wanted to be a blonde.

But come on!, This isn't like somebody is listening to you and you need to be honest with yourself (for a change).

So…

What the hell have you done?

Just at the precise moment that the question is made in your head, one face appears between the hundreds of images that you've collected through the time, thanks to your photographic memory, which (by the way) is a curse that you wish you could just … _rip off_ or something like that.

What the hell have you done?

Mark Sloan's face appears in front of you.

A sharp pain makes echo in the place where anatomically goes your liver, and you're sure it has nothing to do with a symptom of some disease you have memorize.

Your tongue tastes like metal and you think that reminding him is to flagellate yourself conscientiously.

You have been days, weeks, trying to make him speak to you. You've reached the point where your dignity is not _that_ important, and you were _so_ close to throw yourself into his arms and pray him to talk to you.

Even if it's just a _Hi_.

Or just a _How you've been?_

Even you filled wrong a work sheet with the porpoise that he will notice it and eventually will mess with you for the stupid mistake, even if _that was the only reason_ that will move him to talk to you in the first place.

But no.

Not even that.

He scolded one of the new interns for something that, both (you and him) knew that was your mistake.

You felt pity (and envy) of the intern.

.

You accept your mistakes.

And getting laid with Alex Karev was a big and tremendous mistake.

You won't give a bunch of excuses, you won't say that you were hurt, or that in that moment Mark was in Los Angeles screwing with another woman, or that the alcohol takes your messy side out.

You slept with Alex.

Period.

And you understand that Mark is angry.

And you too, of course, are upset.

It didn't take too long for Mark to sleep with another woman. And by God, that his selections are always the most colorful.

Addisson Montgomery?

Seriously?!

And of course it hurts! And of course you're upset!

But this stupid masochistic side of you knows no reasons and it prays you (practically begs) that you forget everything, forgive all, and remember the feeling of his big hands on your skin, his hot breath invading your mouth and his intoxicating smell accompanying your body all the time.

You're stupid. And you're not ashamed of admit it.

Because he slept with another woman and he's being unfair, makes you want to cry and feel terrible about yourself, and he's totally ignoring you, along with the fact that the new Hospital's rumor is that he has resumed his marathon of sleeping with as many nurses and paramedics possible before the next New Year.

And yes. You're stupid.

Because despite all that, you are pretty sure that you've never missed anyone that much (except mom) and you're willing to close your eyes and forget everything, just so can feel his heat invading every corner of your body again.

So you've dyed blonde.

You came to the pathetic point where, in a desperate attempt to get his attention, you have changed something in you.

Something of yours.

Dyeing it represents not only a physical change.

It's an angry cry, stifled, full of despair and pain.

_The need_ for him to turn around and see you again.

You need to stop feeling all this misery, sadness, guilt and bitterness, you think.

You need to feel.

You need to feel it.

To feel _him._

And although you have to change everything you are, showing to yourself that without him you are lost and defeated, it doesn't matter.

Because you'll do anything, literally _anything_, just so you can have him back.

You dyed your hair and you stopped being yourself.

So, could you go any under?

You think not. And there's nothing more to lose.

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**3.**

You're nervous, and as you cross the front door of the hospital, you know there's no going back.

You ensure that no one noticed your big change last night, but today, for obvious reasons, you cannot hide it more.

Reactions are varied and even comical.

Christina cannot close her mouth of wonder and you can even guess the bunch of acids jokes that are at the tip of her tongue but she never tells them (at least not in your face)

Meredith gives one of her smiles _I understand what you're going trough _and you thank her silence.

Derek flatters that you look very beautiful (he knows how to be a good brother)

Bailey doesn't even bother to notice, she is so busy with her life and work, that you're surprised that she hasn't lost her mind yet.

Callie almost dies of impress and Arizona hugs you, saying that you look perfect with the new change.

Alex's reaction is bizarre, he just stares at you a long time, and you suspect that the memory of Izzie has something to do with that, but honestly, it's not for him that you did it.

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Mark's reaction is the one you crave.

And is the one that hurts the most.

His gaze fluctuates between surprise and terror.

And embarrassed, depressed, and more heart broken (if that's humanly possible) you go, quickening his pace.

You avoid him most of the time and you're pleased that Dr. Owen keeps you busy.

You feel your hair like burning and you have a tremendous desire to bury your head in a paper bag so that no one else has to look at it.

You want to cry.

And you will cry.

But not here and not now.

You'll wait for your turn is over, you will buy a huge bucket of chocolate ice-cream and you will go to your room and cry until your eyes are dry and your jeans do not close.

And with that as your higher hope, you follow your routine.

You close your mind to anything other than medicine, patients, surgery, cards and books stored somewhere in your head.

And suddenly is all good.

You forget who you are.

You work on autopilot.

Efficient.

Capable.

As an exquisitely assembled machine working efficiently.

_-Hi-_

Somebody calls you and suddenly you leave the autopilot.

You turn around and look before you the face that has been torturing you for weeks.

_-Hi-_ you reply back.

-_How ... –_ he coughs and looks nervous _-How have you been?-_

A part of you wants to scream euphoric: At last I've made it. It worked!

And the other says: To what point did you have to reach, for him to speak to you again?

_-Good- _you respond, unconvinced, but you expect to sound sure of your answer.

_-Oh-_

And an uncomfortable silence reins the hall where you are both standing facing each other.

_- How is Sloan? -_ you ask.

You note that his face darkens a bit_ –Good. She has decided to return with her mother after giving the baby up for adoption – _

You nod.

It was something that you saw coming. Although you are not sure Mark did.

_-I'm sorry…-_ you get nervous, because having him so close is not healthy for you and his blue eyes fixed on your face brings too many memories that hurt too much _- I gotta go, a patient, you know ... –_

And just before fleeing (because that's what you were doing) he stops you by the arm.

_-Lexie ... –_

And when you hear your name from his mouth, that makes you want to cry and throw your arms to his neck and stay there forever.

_- Yes? –_

Your legs are shaking and you could swear that at any moment you will fall to the ground of how nervous you are.

_-I ... -_ his gaze softens and you note that his lower lip is slightly trembling_ - I miss you- _

And it's there.

In that small second in a full eternity, consisting of thousandths of moments interconnected with others.

It's there.

When it really hurts.

When everything becomes real.

When he has slept with another woman.

When you slept with someone else.

When he wasn't enough to throw overboard your youth; and become a grandmother at twenty five was just _too much._

When you weren't enough, your views were not that important; and choose between a nineteen pregnant daughter and you were not _that hard._

Nodding and smiling melancholy you whisper _-Me too- _

Both look at each other and you notice that he hasn't been very happy lately, just like you.

And then an emergency comes, an accident with many injured people and the moment is broken.

You keep the _I miss you_ at the bottom of your memories and in a corner of your heart.

You get back on autopilot.

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**4.**

You achieve to finish your turn harmless.

Mark never shows up, and you are so grateful for that.

Leaving the hospital, instead of going to the store and buy a big bucket of chocolate ice-cream or getting drunk at Joe's till you lose consciousness, you let for the first time (in a long time) that your smart side takes control and you allow him to make the wise decisions for you.

You buy hair rinse.

Arriving home (home, you repeat yourself, _home_) Meredith offers herself to dye your hair.

Is one of those moments between sisters, those when nobody says anything, but everything is already told.

While you shower, you see the traces of the hair rinse running to the strainer and you start to cry.

But this time you cry either because you miss him or because it hurts.

Or because your small (and bizarre) fairytale is approaching to the end.

You cry because you (at last) understand it.

Everything makes sense.

Because you accept who you are, and you're not going to change the way you are, even if losing him hurts.

If changing your inner side is what it takes to get him back, then you won't do it.

Because you are worthier than that.

And if he had really loved you and you had really loved him, anything of this would have happened.

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**5.**

_-You aren't blond anymore-_

You turn around and see him, with his blue eyes and his hair a little bit more gray than the last time you really saw him.

_-No, I'm not blond anymore-_ you answer with the half of a smile.

_-And then why did you do it in the first place?-_

You could tell him the truth, but you are quite sure that he knows it already, and honestly, now you are happy (you are yourself again, with hair and everything) and nobody's going to take that away from you.

You laugh and move your head _- For stupid reasons-_ you answer.

You leave and start to work.

But not in autopilot. Not anymore.

You smile, you _really smile._

You feel that a heavy weight has been taken from you.

You are going to be happy. Or at least you will try (or die trying)

And yes, it hurts to see him through the corridors and you don't want to picture him flirting with a nurse, but away from that, you wish that he would find whatever he is looking for, and you wait, intensely, that you will also find a bit of peace yourself to move on.

.

You are going to heal.

To forgive yourself.

_And if he can't forgive you, not because of that, you will live punishing yourself too. _

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**6.**

_-It was also my fault- _

Funny how life takes turns. And you don't say it in a vindictive tone, where you are pleased that is now him who is looking for to talk to you.

Just funny. Because now you're not so sure if you want him to talk to you.

_- Sorry? – _

_-I was so angry and hurt that I could only blame you-_

You nod and sigh.

A small part of you feels a huge relief.

It's a sin less and you're kind of glad that he took it out of his system too.

But the other part (immature, human) wants to hurt him for all the times he hurt you.

_-It was both- _you replied, without a trace of bitterness or anger.

Because your mom taught you better than that, and you're better than that.

He nods and sits next to you at Joe's.

You had ordered a hamburger and fries, and he, as he used to do once upon a time, steals one of your fries from your plate and carries it to his mouth.

_-I miss you-_

For mere reaction, you would open your mouth and you will say _I miss you too._

But would that be real?

Absolutely.

But the wounds have beginning to close and it no longer hurts _that much_.

He interprets your silence.

_- Can we start again? – _he asks.

And you're wondering the same thing.

Start over?

A friendship? The relationship?

The damaged parts or just the healthy ones?

_-Honestly, I do not know-_ you answer.

He looks into your eyes, a mixture of melancholy, sadness, and even affection.

You smile.

_-It's been too much, Mark, I don't think it will be the same thing-_

He approaches.

_-We could try-_ he breathes and caress your cheek with his hand _-Let me try, Lexie, let's try – _

You would be a real hypocrite, if you deny that the touch of his skin on yours didn't send electric shocks to every cell of your body.

But the intelligent Lexie, the realistic Lexie, which existed before there was a Mark Sloan, rises from a pile of ashes.

_-No, Mark-_ you answer honestly _–It will never be the same – _

You get up. You take your coat and turn around to see him one last time tonight.

You see his blue eyes and your heart shrinks.

_-But ... -_ he stands up and listens attentively, with those blue eyes you could never forget_ -Starting from scratch, doesn't sound so bad-_ you finally tell him.

You come out of the bar and the cold air caress your face.

From the outside you smile.

And deep inside, you know he's smiling too.

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Thank u :)

Reviews?

_Sari_


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